


Cupcake

by TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 01:05:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16692436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite/pseuds/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite
Summary: After a rough day, Sam knows just what you need





	Cupcake

The front door slams, shaking the house. You kick your shoes in the general direction of the shoe rack, toss your purse on the couch, and then stop in your tracks.

“Sam?” you call, stepping onto the carpet of the living room and starting across it toward the kitchen. Sam had the day off and you have no clue what he's been up to. “Why does is smell like cider?”

Your boyfriend appears, rounding the bar into the dining room, and grins that wild, goofy, dimpled grin that never fails to make your heart at least a little lighter.

“You're home!”

Sam sweeps you into his arms for a kiss. This too contributes to helping you feel better, but he seems to sense that something's off and pulls back with a frown.

“Hey,” he says softly. “What's wrong?”

You shake your head. “Today sucked.”

Sam hugs you tighter. “Tell me about it?”

You lay your head on his chest and take a deep breath, full of the scent of cider and Sam. “I don't really want to talk about it. I don't feel good. Feels like I deepthroated a sandpaper dick,” you tell him honestly.

Sam laughs, causing vibrations that travel from his chest to your own body. “That sounds awful. But, I think I've got just the thing to help you feel better.”

He turns you to face the bar, where a crockpot sits, accompanied by two mugs and a tray of delicious looking cupcakes. The lid is off the crockpot and you realize where the smell is coming from.

“Aw, babe,” you coo, stepping closer to lean over the crockpot and take a deep breath of that perfect smell. The pot is full of the dark amber liquid you adore.

“My grandma's recipe,” Sam says proudly. He kisses the side of your head. “Go change into whatever comfy clothes you want and I'll set dinner out.


End file.
